Silent Prayers
by Pokiepup
Summary: Callie's thoughts right before she walks into the therapist's office.


A.N. Hey guys this is my first attempt at C/A, so I hope it's good. Feedback is welcomed and greatly appreciated. Hope it's enjoyable.

* * *

_**Silent Prayers**_

'_I know you think that I shouldn't still love you-I'll tell you that-But if I didn't say it-Well I'd still have felt it-Where's the sense in that-I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder-I'll return to where we were'_

"Shit," I can't help but say aloud at the feel of the little nob digging into my skin as I slam the radio which of course as my luck would have it doesn't turn it off but rather turns it up.

I can't help but chuckle to myself leaning back against the head rest, my eyes locked with the radio—I knew I should have done what all the young, cool surgeons do and just listen to rap. I bet there isn't any damn songs that make you want to make you crawl under the covers and cry for a week-I have my own life to do that. No, rap music is all about fast cars and loses women and drinking and partying—matter a fact that is exactly what I need to think about. Well not the partying or drinking, that wouldn't be appropriate considering Sofia is waiting for me. And the fast cars wouldn't be very safe or responsible either.

"Jesus," I can't help but shake my head at myself.

I'm actually sitting here having a debate with myself about this. Sighing I turn the car off and then the lights before looking out at the building. What was his name? Doctor White-or was it Wright—or was it—screw it, I can just look at his name tag or whatever. Doesn't really matter does it.

God, what am I doing here?

I am Callie Torres, bad-ass, orthopedic surgeon I don't do therapy. I don't talk about my problems to complete strangers that I have never even met. I haven't even been to confession in over six years and now I'm just supposed to sit there and what?

These aren't even my problems—these are hers. Her problems-NOT mine. I am not the one who cheated. I am not the one who left her. NO. In fact I did the exact opposite. I stayed—I stayed through it all. All of the yelling and the hate and the no sex, and you know what I did? I stayed, not only did I stay but I stayed FAITHFUL. I honored my vows. You know the ones that we took in front of our family and friends-in front of God. They meant something to me. Apparently not to her.

I have to clear my throat as I feel the all too familiar feelings of tears building accompanied by an indescribable weight knotting in my chest. An indescribable weight I have come know all too well.

God I hate this woman—I wish I could hate her it would make this so much easier.

I told her years ago I didn't want her in my life cause I knew she'd just hurt me all over again and I was half right, only problem is she didn't just hurt me. No, she wasn't that kind. No she broke me. Broke our family—our life.

I understood when we were on the verge of breaking because of the crash, because of her leg—I understood that and I was willing to weather the storm. I was willing to be her 'Good man in a storm' as she had been for me before but this—this I can't understand. I can't understand this and honestly I don't think I want to—I don't think I am capable of understanding this.

I was in the hospital for weeks—I looked like some horrid, disfigured monster and she stayed. Not only did she stay but she kept her legs closed and now? Now I look as fine as ever—better, in fact I've lost six pounds this month and you know what? She cheats now. Now after I look fine and after I've stayed and supported her through every day of hell she put us through. Now after we were finally happy,—well finally making strides toward being happy. We were so close. We were so close to getting back what we had—weren't we?

My unconscious sniffle brings me back to reality; looking around the dark street it's still empty. Least no one can see what a broken down coward I've become. Sniffling again I sit up and look in the rearview mirror to confirm what I already knew, I'm crying yet again.

I'm so stupid.

Wiping the tears away with the back of my hands I fall back into the seat and stare off at the door I'm supposed to be walking into. I guess she is already inside—or maybe she decided to skip on this like she did our vows.

Jesus, I'm so stupid to think that she wouldn't hurt me again. I was so stupid to think that I could let my guard down again. So stupid to believe that my happiness—**our** happiness would last. You would think by now I would have learned my lesson. Would have thought I would have known when she said "forever" and "always" that it was nothing more than words. Would have thought I'd have learned that everyone always leaves—well at least they leave me.

George, Mark, Erica—they all just run away from me as quickly as possible.

A wave of pain wreaks havoc on my heart at the thought of him. It was wrong to include him in there—it was wrong to think he just left me. I can admit I'm angry at him for leaving me, leaving Sofia—leaving her.

We were a family-we were so happy. A happy, little, unorthodox family of ducks. And we would have been even happier when he had Lexi—it would have been odd and unorthodox but it would have been amazing. We all would have been happy. Mark and Lexi would be happy and in love and given Sofia siblings and me and her would have been happy and could have ourselves considered giving Sofia siblings. And eventually we could have like bought houses next to each other and had cook outs and had the whole weird-**happy** family.

But no, he left and Lexi left and apparently _she_ left me too—I just wasn't aware of it at the time.

I wish he was here-not only for my ridiculous scenario which I'm sure is not too far from the truth but because then I'd have someone. Mer and Derrick are great, they are family and friends and are being great but they aren't my person. Christina and Alex are fine—but they aren't my person either. No my person is spreading her legs to everyone in town leaving me alone. Completely alone.

That's wrong—I am not alone, I have my baby but I can't tell her, 'hey my love, your other mommy is a horrible, soul crushing slut,' I could never do that to my baby. I couldn't even do that to her. Horrible, vapid, lying, cheating, slutty bitch of a wife—YES. DOUBLE AND TRIPLE YES. But horrible mother? No. And God does it hurt to admit that. It would be so much easier if she was, then I really could just take Sofia and run—just run away from it all because then I would be justified. But of course with my luck-the horribleness stops with being my wife. Even when she was screaming at me to "fuck off" and wanting to die she still took care of our daughter. Still watched her, cared for her, loved her—never once forgot about her.

Why can't she be as horrible a parent as she is a partner?

Ignoring the tears running down my cheeks I pull my phone from my pocket and see it's already eight-twenty-seven. Three minutes of freedom left. And who had appointments at eight thirty at night? Seriously, what therapist does that?

"Shit," I let out jumping at the vibration in my hand. Looking back down I see the words 'Mi Amor,' written across the screen and a picture of her with Sofia, smiling lying in bed together.

My stomach turns like I've just ingested three-week expired sushi and my heart I can swear breaks all over again. Until this moment I didn't even realize I still had her under that—still had her picture. But the part that hurts the most is that I can remember when that was taken vividly. It was two nights before she got on that plane. Two nights before our marriage was doomed.

She looks so happy, genuinely happy and maybe what hurts the most is to think that's how long ago it was when she was genuinely happy. When we were genuinely happy. Not happy because we were making progress. Not happy because we made it a day or week without fighting. Not happy because we resembled some shadow versions of our old life.

I miss that life. I miss that her. I miss that us. I miss that me.

Feeling the vibration again I give a sniffle and quickly hit the ignore—I can't stand to see the picture again and I can't stand to change the name and picture now—I don't have the strength. Not now. Using the back of my hands I wipe away the tears and get out of the car without bothering to look myself over. After all what is the point in trying to hide the damage—she caused it-she should see her handy work. Admire it.

The office is nice, dark and practically empty but nice. I guess she is paying extra to keep him here since I can't help but notice the sign says 'last appointment at seven'. Red dress, haircut and paying extra—guess she really wants this. Maybe she should have suggested it before spreading her legs—maybe then I would have been more open to this. Maybe then I would be praising her for trying to improve us rather than a last ditch effort to save us.

Reaching for the doorknob, I take a deep breath, and say a silent prayer for the courage I'm going to need to go through with this.


End file.
